1-900-SURPRISE!
A short, sexy contemporary with edge!
From Eirelander Publishing
When her lover, Martin
Fowler is called away to Washington and she can't go with him, Daniella LeBeaux
is restless and edgy. Martin's older, worldly, and has a reputation that would
make most women think twice about trusting him. Dani loves him, and trust is not
what's making her anxious and edgy - lust and loneliness are combining with a
little too much to drink. When the phone rings, and it's Martin, delayed again,
he teaches her a new way to make love long-distance style.... but who's watching
Dani? And is Martin really ready for the revenge his actions
incite?
Excerpt:
An hour
after her father had gone home, Martin called. He was, in fact, on his way back
to New York. Despite the fact that she had an early call for rehearsals the next
day, Daniella chose to wait up for him. It was approaching 2 AM now and he still
wasn’t home. She glanced at the clock. Less than ten minutes had passed since
her last check.
She had stopped drinking after
her father had gone, taken a shower, and now she was sitting in the apartment
with only candlelight and soft music for company. She smiled, unable to subdue
the flutter of excitement in her stomach when she thought about seeing him walk
into the apartment. She went to the window, staring at the street as if she
could will the scarlet-colored Corvette to appear.
Her father’s visit, and the
revelations he’d shared played through her mind again. It explained why Andrew
had taken Martin on as a partner in the private investigations firm that was
doing extremely well due to the talented men who ran it. To his credit, Martin
had tried to dissuade Daniella’s interest in him, especially given her age.
She’d been seventeen when they’d met, and her father’s disapproval of her
infatuation with Martin had been vehement. Persuading either of them that her
teenage crush was actually soul-deep love and adoration hadn’t been easy. By the
time she was twenty-one, Martin had been convinced; it had taken more months
than she cared to recall to make her father understand and accept it. But, it
had finally happened, and she was happier than she’d ever been in her life. Most
of the time.
The glitter of soft, dancing
light from the flickering candle-flames sparkled on cut crystal and drew her
gaze to the bar. She decided to have another drink, even knowing it was likely
to be a bad idea come morning. She poured a healthy dose of the scotch Martin
preferred, and then tried to settle into an armchair. She closed her eyes and
let her head fall back against the plush cushion in an attempt to
relax.
A single mouthful of the drink
reminded her of the way it tasted on Martin’s lips. She let that image settle in
her mind, smiling at the shiver that rippled through her. Martin was a stunning
man, and she never tired of looking at him, or listening to him, or being in the
same room with him.
He was tall, with dark brown
hair, and equally dark eyes that dominated a strikingly contoured face. At
forty, he was scarred emotionally and physically, but he was beauty incarnate to
the woman who loved him. The image of his lean, muscular limbs, and her frequent
cataloging of every gorgeous inch of him, made her tremble with
longing.
She tossed back the remainder
of her Scotch and slouched deeper into the chair erotic memories led her
thoughts. The warmth of the liquor coursed through her, creating a flush on her
skin that she knew would be visible had Martin been there to see it. She let
herself be carried along on the alcohol-edged wave, and felt an undeniable rush
of hungry desire when she thought about having Martin beside her in bed. The
nights had been the hardest part of the separation—she’d been going to bed later
and later over the past week in order to spend as few hours as possible sleeping
alone.
She was still finding it
difficult to believe just how much she missed him. The apartment was eerily
quiet in the morning, and equally so when she came home. The evenings started
driving her crazy within a few days. She was always wound up after the extended
rehearsals, but that excess energy generally found an outlet in Martin’s
arms.
Daniella abruptly cut off that train of thought by getting up to
fix another drink, this time making it considerably larger than the previous
one. A slow stroll back to the window revealed only darkness and an empty street
below. It had rained earlier, and the scattered puddles created sporadic mirrors
and reflected back the glare of streetlights and passing car headlights. An
absent glance at her watch didn’t offer her any reassurance—he was nearly an
hour late now. She forced down the threat of panic that wanted to blossom into a
full-fledged fear and told herself that he was all right. His identity was
protected and all precautions had been taken to ensure his safety. With her
father in charge of that, she had no doubts at all about the quality of the
security surrounding Fowler at all times.
Uncomfortable at the window,
Daniella spun on her heel and dropped into the armchair again. About halfway to
the bottom of this drink, memory steered her thoughts inexorably back to the
bedroom she shared with Martin. The tension knotting her muscles was as much
sexual as it was concern for his unexplained lateness, and the sudden ache
between her thighs was more than enough to awaken her entire body with
anticipation. Another gulp and the second Scotch was gone.
Daniella was beginning to feel
a bit more relaxed again now that alcohol was dulling her perception but there
was still an edge of panic lingering within her. She couldn’t help wondering if
something had happened to Martin; he was never hours late without calling—a
habit he was slowly drilling into Daniella as well. She looked at the glass in
her hand, debating whether to refill it a third time. It was now almost three
o’clock, and she decided to have the drink then go to bed—alone. She couldn’t
suppress the flare of anger that shot through her at the prospect of another
night in the huge bed without Martin. In her heart, she knew nothing serious had
delayed him, which meant he simply hadn’t bothered to call.
Twenty minutes and a third
drink later; Daniella was staring at the empty glass again. Her head felt
pleasantly fuzzy.
Disappointment and annoyance
kept her on an emotional seesaw...
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